


Rainy Day

by passionslipsaway



Category: Hadestown - Mitchell
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Hand Jobs, Nobody Dies because I said so, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon Fix-It, Teasing, Tenderness, eurydice likes wearing orpheus' shirts fight me, if that's important for you to know, seriously this is just a lot of tenderness packed into a very small fic, theres also like. foreplay while orpheus plays the lyre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 00:11:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20023324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/passionslipsaway/pseuds/passionslipsaway
Summary: Orpheus and Eurydice spend a spring afternoon together.





	Rainy Day

**Author's Note:**

> oh anaïs mitchell we're really in it now.

She hardly noticed the unfamiliar melody at first. Eurydice was sitting at the dining table, confined to the indoors on a rainy spring afternoon. Orpheus, her poet, lover, and, as of recently, her husband, was situated on the floor of their small home, happily strumming away at his lyre and singing what must have been a yet another new song of his. They had promised to meet Persephone at Hermes’ bar later that evening for her nightly spring festivities and, until the rain stopped, they had no choice but to spend the hours in between inside. For Orpheus, that meant working on a song.

It had been a year since they’d walked out of Hadestown together—a year since he’d refused to see how the world really was and she’d let desperation get the better of her; a year since they’d started a revolution. In that time, Eurydice had become so used to living a life with her lover’s music in the background that it had become second nature to her. Sure, they had lived together before their trip to the Underworld, but once winter arrived, Eurydice had spent most of that time out scrounging for food and firewood. When they married, not long after their return, it took her several weeks to adjust to the near-perpetual noise whenever her poet was in the house. Orpheus was always playing, or if he wasn’t playing, he was humming, or if he wasn’t humming, he was whistling. Having been alone so long, Eurydice was far more accustomed to the silence. Now, though, she couldn’t imagine life without Orpheus and all the little quirks that came with him. Especially not after having come so close to losing that life completely.

So, she noticed when he was playing something she hadn’t heard before.

“Is that new?” She asked, using a scrap of cloth to mark her place in the book she was reading. She had time for things like that now—for reading, for daydreaming, for listening to her poet sing. 

He kept playing, not having heard her. He was caught up in his music, plucking out a few bars before starting to sing them again, intent on getting it right.

She leaned forwards, “Orpheus?” No response.

A few months ago, Eurydice might have rolled her eyes at that. Now, she knew better than to expect her husband to be drawn so easily away from a song.

" _Orpheus_ ,” she repeated.

“Hmm?” He turned to her, finally, a little dazed from having his concentration broken, but smiling. “Oh! Yes, it’s something I’m workin’ on.” 

“Can I hear it?” 

Orpheus hesitated. His fingers flitted over the frets of his lyre for a moment. “It’s not finished yet…” 

“Play me what you have?” She asked, moving from her place in one of their mismatched dining chairs to sit cross-legged in front of him on the floor. Eurydice was suddenly reminded of the first time they met _. You wanna take me home, don’t you? Play the song._

Orpheus’ smile returned—he couldn’t refuse her. He readjusted his lyre in his lap, and cleared his throat—unnecessarily, Eurydice knew; as part of his gift, he had never needed to prepare to sing. She almost did roll her eyes at that. 

Eyes closed and face set in concentration, Orpheus began to play. The melody that emerged was lilting and sweet. It started slow in tempo, not unlike the epics he had written before about the gods’ fateful romance, but this time it built to something grander, more hopeful. Like the composer was sure of a happy ending. 

The song reached its chorus and Orpheus, as always, was lost in his music again. His left hand was steady against the frets of his lyre while his right strummed the strings with increasing intensity. Head tilted to the side, eyes still closed, brows furrowed—the expression he always made while playing that caused Eurydice’s heart to flutter—Orpheus sang out the lyrics he had so far. It was something about a pretty songbird, welcoming the first days of spring with her music. The song wasn’t perfect, not yet, but he’d get there in time. Before the end of summer, he’d be playing it for a crowd of patrons at Hermes’ bar. Eurydice smiled at the thought. 

The melody tapered off slightly, as Orpheus reached a part he had clearly not written yet, but he continued to play.

“The song’s not finished,” he admitted, suddenly shy. “I wanted to write about the seasons, brought back in tune. It’s our first long spring together, as husband and wife, without Lady Persephone leaving too soon—”

“It’s beautiful,” Eurydice said, smiling. “Keep playing.” 

“That’s all I have…” Orpheus plucked absently at the lyre, a variant of what he’d just played. “The lyrics aren’t done.”

Eurydice folded her legs underneath herself, and after a moment, said, “Play our song.” 

Orpheus was surprised at first, but then his face broke into a grin. That, he could do. Without hesitation, the poet strummed the first chords of the song he had finished nearly a year ago, the one that swayed the God of the Underworld, the one that saved them both from Hadestown. 

Eurydice let the familiarity of it wash over her. Sure, she’d heard it countless times before—everyone was always asking to hear the song that set the world back into tune, back into time. But this was the first time he’d played it just for her since they’d made it back from the Underworld, and she knew why. With just them, it meant something else. It was what Orpheus sang to break through the walls of Hadestown and what he sang to comfort himself as they walked out, when he could no longer hear Eurydice’s voice, not knowing if she followed, if they’d make it. 

Eurydice blinked and shook her head, thankful that Orpheus was too far gone to notice her expression. She tried not to think of what almost happened; instead, she reminded herself of what they had now. What they had now was good. 

_Very good,_ Eurydice thought. Suddenly, she had an idea of how they could spend their afternoon. 

As Orpheus continued to sing their song, Eurydice shifted to move towards him, a mischievous look on her face that the poet couldn’t see. She sidled up beside him, skimming her finger tips over his arm. She then gently squeezed his upper arm to let him know she was there, which caused him to smile as he sang. She settled in behind him, positioning her legs on either side of his torso so she straddled his back. Eurydice’s head came to rest on his shoulder from behind, her arms wrapped around his slender waist, and for a moment, she enjoyed the soft rumble of his voice against her cheek. 

She didn’t stay there for long. Raising her head again, Eurydice placed a series of soft kisses to the back of his neck, which she only had so much access to with his bandana in the way. Her nose pressed into his hair; she could smell the soap they both shared, along with the familiar, musty scent of the bar. She moved her hands to his shoulder blades and traced a path from there, back down to his waist, just barely brushing them along his thighs before resting them on either knee. She squeezed, playfully kissing at the spot behind his ear while she did so. 

He didn’t react right at first—that was her Orpheus, not easily distracted when it came to music—but as Eurydice’s hands became more insistent, touching his shoulders, his chest, his stomach, all while she continued to kiss his neck, she heard his voice falter slightly. She smirked.

“I love when you play just for me,” she breathed against his ear. Eurydice moved her left hand back to his knee as her right settled between his thighs, feeling him already half hard. The end of a “la” broke off into a whine. She smiled in satisfaction.

“Ah ah ah,” she scolded. “The song's not finished yet. Keep going.” 

He gave a strangled laugh. “Are you going to keep going, too?”

She rested her chin on his shoulder, pretending to seriously consider the question. “Hmm. I guess you’ll have to wait and see.” 

Orpheus grinned, his eyes lighting up. He cleared his throat once more, readjusted his lyre, and picked up where he’d left off. Eurydice did the same. 

“Keep singing,” she whispered, starting to fumble with the clasps of his suspenders from behind with one hand while the other returned to between his legs. He giggled nervously, his fingers continuing to play even as his voice faltered. Eurydice frowned, realizing that this was going to be harder than she’d thought, especially with his lyre in the way. She decided she had run out of patience.

“Orpheus,” she said, squeezing his thigh. “Keep singing, but stop playing.”

He blinked, genuinely confused for a moment before his eyes widened in understanding as she gestured at his lyre. 

“Ohhhhhh. Uh. Right. Okay!” He hastily set the instrument aside and, almost immediately, she moved from behind him, pushing his thighs apart to sit between his legs. His cheeks heated up as he watched her carefully undo the clasps of his suspenders and begin unbuttoning the front of his trousers. 

She smirked at the wide-eyed wonder on his face. From his expression, you’d have guessed it was the first time she’d ever touched him.

“We’re _married_ , you know,” she reminded him, sliding her hand in and placing the slightest bit of pressure on him. 

“Well, to be fair, we did this a lot before we were married, so I hardly think that makes a diff— _ah!_ ” He swallowed the rest of his sentence as she began to stroke him, her eyes glinting wickedly. 

“I said to keep singing,” she said sternly. “You should be used to this by now. Able to... keep performing.” 

His eyelashes fluttered rapidly as she increased her speed. “You know that I’m bad at doing more than one thing a time.” He objected, his voice squeaky. “Even when you’re not—oh! Ah! Do that again, that was— _yes_ , that!”

With Orpheus still sitting up, leaning back on his palms, Eurydice lowered herself between his thighs. She pressed a kiss to the inside of his hip, her nose brushing against him as she did so, and he gasped. Pleased with herself and his response, she decided to up the ante. “Sing, poet. I dare you,” she said, and then immediately took him into her mouth. 

“Eurydice!” He yelped, his hands flying to grip her shoulders and forcing him to lie on his back instead. 

She hummed around him, both to torment him and to remind him of what he was supposed to be doing. 

“La…” Orpheus sang weakly, managing to hold the note for no more than a second or two before his jaw clenched shut and he was reduced to humming low in his throat. “Eurydice…” 

They continued like that for a bit, her working him with her lips and tongue, him emitting a series of sounds that were halfway between singing and moaning. He reached to stroke her hair, careful not to force her head down, and she rubbed small circles into his hip bones with her thumbs.

Finally, Eurydice pulled off, held him in one workworn hand, and looked him straight in the eyes. “You know, for a singer, you’re not doing a very good job of singing.” 

He made a petulant noise. “I can’t sing when you’re sucking my—nngh!”

Having returned her mouth to him, she wasn’t able to laugh at his surprise, but she did notice that he was beginning to quiver. She redoubled her efforts momentarily, feeling him grow tighter as he tried to hold on. 

“It’s okay,” she reassured him, taking him out of her mouth and sitting back on her knees. Eurydice had never been good with words—that was Orpheus’ realm—but she did know how to treat her lover in a way that showed him how she felt. Up until that point, she had been playful with Orpheus, pushing him to see how far he’d make it and enjoying his ever-genuine responses. Eurydice loved teasing her poet, but she loved giving him his pleasure, too, and knew when to do one or the other. Right now, she figured they were both ready for him to unravel.

Still working him in her hand, Eurydice leaned forward again and whispered, “Go ahead, Orpheus, my love, it’s okay. Come for me.” 

He let out a sudden, breathless gasp and squeezed his eyes shut, his hands balling into fists against the rug and his back bowing sharply as he orgasmed. 

She wiped her free arm across her lips and watched him finish, savoring the look on his face. Amazement, gratitude, bliss—he was so easy to read that she didn’t think he could hide his emotions even if he tried, but she still loved that the thought of hiding anything from her had never even crossed his mind. His transparency meant that sex was never a competition with him, either; he never tried to one-up her or manipulate her into doing something more by stifling his enjoyment. He loved her, he desired her, and he would say so to anyone who asked.

“Thank you,” Orpheus said after a bit of time. He was lying flat on their floor and reached up to run a finger down her cheek. “You’re a dream come true.”

She held his hand and kissed the center of his palm, smiling softly to herself. He was her dream, too, of course, and he knew it. She had more trouble saying it than he did, but he knew it anyway—saw it in the way she silently sought out his hand to hold when they sat together at the bar; the softness in her eyes when she watched him scribbling down a new song or poem; the feeling of her body pressed tight up against his own late at night, holding him to her like he might be stolen away. And, especially, in how she touched him, kissed him, even if it wasn’t going to lead to something more. Orpheus knew Eurydice didn’t devote that tenderness to everyone, which meant just as much or more to him than words could express. 

They laid side by side for a minute or two in the quiet, Orpheus’ breaths returning to normal, Eurydice content to hold his hand and trace her fingers over the callouses that came from playing music day in and day out. 

Slowly, clearly still recovering, Orpheus turned to her. “It’s your turn now,” he said, cheeks flushed and eyes completely guileless. “If you want to, that is. I mean—can I?”

She grinned, hoping for this. “Yes, please. But not here.”

He looked confused for a moment, then nodded in understanding as she gestured at the messy floor. Pencils, papers, and crumpled sheet music were strewn about. His notebook should also be there, somewhere, Orpheus thought. This space was essentially the poets’ natural habitat—he only ever composed music on the floor of their living room, which also happened to be their bedroom, kitchen, and dining room. Eurydice hardly minded—she wasn’t bothered by the smallness of their home or her husband’s preference for their grimy rug over a chair—but for these matters, she much preferred the comfort of their bed. At least until they could afford a better rug.

“Bed it is,” Orpheus said, hastily re-buttoning his trousers but leaving his suspenders to hang around his thighs. He pulled off his shirt, stained with his release, and balled it up, making a note to wash it later. His bandana came off as well, landing somewhere near his shirt on the floor.

Eurydice was already standing, and offered her hand to help Orpheus up, who smiled sheepishly before taking it—she knew he’d still be weak on his feet. She had begun to lead the two of them to their bed, when Orpheus suddenly wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up from behind, surprising her. 

“Orpheus!” She yelped, laughing as her husband laid them down together on the bed, him on top of her. He bent his head down, capturing her lips in what they both realized the was the first real kiss of the afternoon. In her mouth, he tasted himself and the tea she had been drinking earlier.

“My turn—" he broke off before kissing her again, “to take your breath away.” 

Eurydice laughed again as he kissed across her cheek, to her jaw, tonguing briefly at her ear to make her giggle, and then continuing down her neck. Adjusting them so he was between her legs, Orpheus undid the first few buttons on the white button-down she was wearing that day. He placed soft kisses on the skin he revealed, taking his time with her. Eurydice was not so patient. Already thrilled for what was to come, she suddenly, but gently, pushed him off of her, sitting them both up and doing away with her top faster than Orpheus would have. She did the same with the thin camisole she wore underneath, casting them both to the floor before flopping back down onto the bed. Orpheus looked at her, slightly stunned.

“Well?” she said, looking back at him expectantly. “I figured you could handle the pants, unless you need help there, too.” 

He puffed out a laugh. His wife never did cease to surprise him. “I won’t bother taking my time, then,” he whispered, settling over her again.

“Fine by me,” Eurydice returned playfully, hands on his bare shoulders.

Orpheus raised his eyebrows before lowering his head, this time kissing over one of her exposed breasts and quickly taking a nipple in his mouth.

At that, Eurydice hummed happily, threading her fingers through the short hair at the back of his neck. Orpheus removed a hand from where it had been on her waist and brought it to cup her other breast. After a few moments, he switched his mouth to that side. 

Orpheus loved doing this, giving his lover’s body the attention it deserved, but he knew Eurydice would prefer if he just got on with it. He didn’t understand why she would want to go fast when, really, they had all the time they could ever need together. Nevertheless, Orpheus wouldn’t deny her what she wanted.

Without his mouth leaving her skin, Orpheus drew a hand down and popped open the button on Eurydice’s jeans, which were (thankfully) less complicated than his trousers. He slipped a hand inside, pushing aside her underwear and teasing his fingers through her folds. She was wetter than he’d expected, which only spurred him on more, knowing he could do that to her. It also dawned on him that she must have been planning this from the beginning. That surprised him less.

He began slowly, working her clit with his first two fingers. At that, it was Eurydice’s turn to gasp, letting him know he was doing exactly what she wanted. Earlier in their relationship, she would have had to guide Orpheus to where he needed to go, but he no longer needed any direction (and hadn’t for some time now).

He took his mouth off of her for a moment to look up. “Good?” he asked.

“Keep going,” she told him, gripping his hair a bit tighter as he increased his pressure on her. 

He smiled and returned his mouth to Eurydice’s skin, deciding to kiss across her chest once more before finally beginning to move downwards. Orpheus would sing (literally) the praises of his wife’s body until they were both old and shriveled—even then he knew he’d still find her breathtaking. But getting to do this, as well, was far better. His mouth trailed over the soft skin of her stomach and he worked her faster, hoping to elicit another noise, something, from her.

“Orpheus,” she hummed, sounding pleased, but he heard the growing impatience behind it.

He smiled against her hip, placing a kiss to the same spot where she had done so earlier on him. Not wasting any more time, Orpheus he removed his hands from Eurydice, wanting to tug down her jeans and underwear all at once. It proved to be more difficult than he’d hoped.

“You are good at so many things, poet,” Eurydice quipped, “But removing clothing is not one of them.”

“You’re so beautiful that you distract me,” he said, unembarrassed by the admission. “And I’m still floating from earlier, too. You’re very good at sex, you know.” 

She laughed. “Too much talking, not enough—ooh!” He cut her off by surprising her with a swirl of his thumb and then reached back out to shimmy her jeans down. 

“Better?” He asked. “Good?” 

She sighed, relaxing back into the mattress. He was always so concerned about how she felt, and always so unlike anyone she’d ever met before. “Mhmm,” she murmured, her eyes falling shut as he continued to work his fingers, building up the tension and pleasure within her. 

“Tell me if it’s not,” he said, a phrase she’d knew he’d say at some point. He always did. 

“I will,” she said, her voice breathy, “But I won’t need to.”

He blushed and smiled, taking that as his cue to bend his head and lap at her wetness. 

“ _Finally_ —ah!” Eurydice tried to joke but was cut off by the feeling of his mouth on her. “Fuck, Orpheus, _fuck._ ”

That was a good sign. He teased her at first, like she had done with him, swirling his tongue with not quite enough pressure and sucking lightly. Orpheus loved just tasting her, but that wasn’t going to give her what she wanted.

Breaking their contact briefly, he brought Eurydice’s thighs to rest on his shoulders, which made them both more comfortable and gave him better access to her. Orpheus vaguely wished their bed was just the slightest bit bigger; it was barely enough for two people and his own legs always hung partially off the edge when they did this, but there wasn’t much he could do about that until—

“ _Orpheus_ ,” Eurydice nearly growled, tugging at his hair, reminding him what he was supposed to be doing. He made a noise of recognition and returned his mouth to her, this time with more urgency.

She gasped and clamped her thighs around his head before letting them fall open so she could push herself against his mouth. Orpheus kept up, focusing his attention where he knew she wanted it. To help things along, he slid two fingers inside of her and curled them. He also traced along the inside of her thigh with his free hand—something he always remembered she liked. She was almost there, he could tell.

Orpheus contemplated what he could do to bring her over the edge. Not really certain why, or even if it would do anything, he began to hum their song deep in his throat, while he continued to work her with his mouth. At the very least, it helped him keep his focus and a steady rhythm. Eurydice, no doubt recognizing the tune, gasped what sounded like his name and maybe a curse. He knew from experience that that meant he was doing something right.

“So, now— _ah_ —you can sing,” she hissed between gritted teeth.

Orpheus didn’t have time to respond even if his mouth had been free to. Eurydice suddenly cried out, tightening around his fingers and fisting her hands in his hair in a way that was rather painful but certainly meant she had reached her moment. He eased her through it, as she had done for him. Before it was over, though, he looked up at her, completely in awe. Eurydice’s dark hair was splayed over one of their pillows, contrasting starkly with the faded print. She had let go of his hair, and one of her hands was at her own breast with the other firmly gripping the bedsheets. She was breathing heavily, and when she was able to focus her eyes on his, he felt his heart seize at the tenderness he saw there. Orpheus loved these brief moments when she was completely undone. He was the only one who got to know her like this.

“That was good?” He finally asked, laying his head on her stomach.

“Really good,” she whispered, and ran a hand through his hair, watching it flop immediately back into place.

Happy with that, Orpheus pressed a kiss to her stomach before gently untangling himself from her and moving up to settle beside her on the bed. They lay facing each other, and Eurydice immediately went to kiss her lover properly. He responded eagerly, letting her tongue graze over his, letting her taste what he just had, until she broke them apart. She resettled herself so that her nose was touching his, their lips close, his breath warm on her chin. Eurydice traced a finger from his brow, down around his cheekbone, and, finally, ran a thumb across his lips. She kissed him again.

After a few moments, when they broke apart, Orpheus asked, “how much longer before we need to meet Lady Persephone?”

Eurydice sighed and cast a glance to the clock above their kitchen stove. “We’ve still got two hours, thank the gods.” Leaving this bed was the last thing she wanted to do. 

“Nap?” Orpheus suggested.

“Mhmm. Please.”

They both sat up, Orpheus stripping off his trousers and suspenders while Eurydice padded over to their shared dresser. She selected one of Orpheus’ shirts that was far too big for her and pulled it on before crawling back into bed. Almost before he had time to settle in, Eurydice snuggled into his chest. Orpheus’ arms encircled her, and he kissed the top of her head.

It was a good few minutes of silence, the only sound being the patter of rain outside, where Eurydice couldn’t tell if her husband was still awake or not. Finally, she said, “Orpheus?”

“Yes?”

“I love you,” she breathed into his chest. “So much.”

It had been a full year since they’d left Hadestown, yes, but Eurydice was still almost overwhelmed by the vulnerability that came with saying those words out loud. Thankfully, right now she was too drowsy to think about it any further.

Orpheus smiled, voice muffled by her hair and trailing off as he said, “I love you, too, my wife. My Eurydice.”

Eurydice knew that later, she’d watch Orpheus sing and play for the bar’s patrons, something lively that he’d written specifically for such occasions. After he was done, when the regular band kicked back up, she, Orpheus, and Persephone would dance into the early hours of the morning. And when she got home with her husband, having drunk just enough wine, and with just enough energy left, she would playfully push him down onto their bed that was still a little too small. She would do away with their shirts, jeans, underclothes, straddle his hips, and show him, in her own way, how much she loved him. 

**Author's Note:**

> this got way out of fucking hand.
> 
> anyways this was supposed to be a cute fluffy piece or whatever but i blacked out and wrote 4,500 words of ophydice smut. 
> 
> BIG ASS THANK YOU to ao3 user tuppenny for holding my hand through my first fic. and helping me write porn. youre a real one. 
> 
> im @passionslipsaway/@dreyfvs on tumblr where ive never posted fic but do make fanart and cry about hadestown in a public setting.


End file.
